Dusk
by EtharahxBennica
Summary: My representation of what I think Dusk from My Babysitter's a Vampire would be like. Jakeward is Edward and Rochelle is Bella.


LOOK

THE HOT PHEONIX SUN GLARED DOWN ON THE CAR WINDOWSILL

where my bare, pallid arm dangled shamelessly. My mum and I were both going to the airport, but only I had a ticket waiting for me, and that ticket was one way.

I had a dejected, brooding expression on my face, and I could tell from the reflection in the window that it was also an intriguing expression. It seemed out of place. Coming fro a girl in a sleeveless, lacy top and bell bottom jeans. But I was that kind of girl - out of place. Then I shifted from that place on the dashboard to a normal position on the seat. Much better.

I was exiling myself from my mum's home in Pheonix to my dad's home in Switchblade. As a self-exiled exile, I would know the pain of Diaspora and the pleasure of imposing it, callously disregarding my own pleas to say one last goodbye to the potted fungus I was cultivating. I had to coarsen my skin if I was going to be a refuge in Switchblade, a town in northwest Oregon that no one knows about. Do't try and look it up in a map – it's not _important_ enough for the _mapmakers_ to care about. And don't even think about looking me up in that map – apparently, I'm not important enough either.

"Rochelle," my mum pouted in the terminal. I felt a pang of guilt, leaving her to fend for herself in this huge, friendless airport. But, as the pediatrician said, I couldn't let her seperation anxiety prevent me from getting out of the house for eight or so years.

I got down on my knees and held her hands. "Rochelle is only going to be gone _for the rest of high school_, okay? You're going to have a lot of fun with Bill, right Bill?"

Bill nodded. He was my new stepdad and the only other person available to take care of her while I was gone. I can't say I trusted him, but he was cheaper than a sitter.

I straighted up and crossed my arms. It was time to cut the crap. "The emergency numbers are above the phone in the kitchen," I told him "If she gets hurt, skip the first two – they're your cell phone and Domino's. I've cooked you enough meals to last you both the first month if you split one-third of Stouffer's Lasagna a day."

My mum smiled at the thought of lasagna.

"You don't have to go, Rochelle," said Bill. "Sure, my street hockey team s going on tour, but only around the neighbourhood. There's plenty of space for you, your mum and me to live."

"It's no big deal. I want to go. I want to leave all my friends and sunlight for a small, rainy town. Making you happy makes me happy,"

"Please stay – who will pay the bills when you leave?" I could hear my boarding number being called. "I bet Bill can run faster than Mum to the nice Jamba Juice man!"

"I am the fastest!" my mum shouted. As they ran off, Bill pulling her shirt to get ahead, I slowly backed away into the gate, through the jet bridge, and onto the plane. None of us were good at saying goodbye. For some reason it always came out as good-BUH.

I was nervous about reuniting with my dad. He could be distant. Twenty-seven years of being the only window-wiper in Switchblade had forced him to distance himself from others by at least a windowpane. I recall my mum breaking down on the sofa after one of their rows snd him just watching her stiocally, right outside the window, wiping in powerful, circular motions.

When I saw him waiting outside the terminal, I walked towards him shyly, tripping over a toddler and soaring into a keychain display. Embarrassaed, I straightend up and fell down the escalator, somersaulting over the roller luggage inconsideratly placed on the left side. I gte my lack of coordinaton from my dad, who always used to push me down when I was learning to walk.

"Are you alright?" my dad laughed, steadying me as I got up. "That's my clumsy old Rochelle!" he added, pointing at another girl.

"It's me, I'm your Rochelle!" I cried, covering my face with my hair like I normally wear it.

"Oh! Hello! It't good to see you Rochelle." He gave me a gripping hug.

"It's good to see you too, _Dad_." How strange that felt to use that moniker. At home in Pheonix,_ I_ called him Jim and _my mum_ called him Dad.

"You've grown so big- I didn't recongnize you without the umbilical cord, I guess."

Had it really beeen that long? Had I really not seen my dad since I was thirteen and going through my pet-umbilical cord phase? I relaized we had a lot of catching u to do.

I hadn't brought all ofmy clothes from Pheonix, so I only had twelve bags. My dad and I took them in shifts to his Viper.

"Before you start making jabs about me being divorced, middle-aged and going through a midlife crisis," he said as we put on out seat belts, ankle straps and helmets, "allow me to explain that I _need_ a very aerodynamic car as a window-wiper. My customers are very judgemental people- if I don't drag race to those windows, they're going to question whether I'm the right kind of guy to hang off their roofs. Push that button hon, it raises the giant snake head."

I hoped he wasn't thinking of driving me to school in this car. Every other kid probably rode a donkey.


End file.
